


What You Don't Know

by myxstorie



Category: Dollhouse, Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 22:55:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2001105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myxstorie/pseuds/myxstorie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dollhouse AU for Amy, for <a href="http://fic-the-faith.livejournal.com/">fic_the_faith'10</a>, originally posted <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/fic_the_faith/2612.html">here</a>. The title of this is the name of Dollhouse's chilling theme song, and I thought it fit rather nicely ^^ I owe an unending amount of thanks to Brina, Nick and P-suke for all of your hand-holding and cheerleading through this, I couldn't have done it on my own ♥ And also, thank you so much to everyone who left such amazing comments on it when it was first posted ;_; You guys are wonderful ♥</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Don't Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beltenebra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beltenebra/gifts).



Even though Kame hasn't lived in Hawaii all his life, he's been here long enough now that it feels like home. The sun beating down on his bare shoulders, the rustling of the palm tree leaves in the wind, the crash of the waves on the rocks below, all of it echoes in his ears and brings a smile to his face.

"Are you going to stand there all day?"

Kame turns at the voice, almost as familiar as the scenery by now, "I might. What's it to you?"

Jin smiles, "You're dentin' my sand."

Snorting, Kame rolls his eyes, "What do you want?"

"I'm having a barbeque later. You should come." Jin's staring down at the sand as he speaks, toeing the soft grains and working a line into it with a slow back-and-forth motion.

"I don't think so," Kame says immediately, "I've got things to do."

Kame hasn't got things to do. He never has things to do, not out here, nothing more than manning the Lifeguard's chair every morning and surfing until the sun sets, a deep, fiery crimson on the horizon.

"Bullshit," Jin calls, and Kame doesn't need to look to know that his eyes are sad. For all he tries to look tough, to talk tough, Jin can never hide just how much of a child he still is, craving attention and affection in the same way a new puppy might, leaping and bounding around with wide, hopeful eyes until someone takes him home.

"When are you going to stop avoiding me?" Jin continues, and now there's a sadness in his voice, too.

Kame laughs and tells Jin he's being conceited, and the spark of hope he sees flicker across the other man's face is almost, _almost_ enough to make him change his mind.

But night falls, and he doesn't go.

\-----

Sometimes, Kazuya sees things. Flashes of images in his head, sounds that echo and trail off before he's caught exactly what they are. Faces, names, buildings, so many things that trying to fit them all together makes his mind pulse and throb in pain. The more he tries to concentrate on any one thing, the more it hurts, searing behind his eyes and making white stars burst across his vision, flaring up in an explosion of heat.

He knows he's wrong for seeing these things, bad, and that if they found out, he could get in trouble. If they found out he wasn't like the others, he'd be sent up _there_. To the Attic.

Kazuya doesn't know much about the Attic - no-one tells them anything - except what he's heard in snippets of conversation when no-one thought he was listening. He knows it's where they send them when they're bad, when they don't do as they're supposed to, and that once they go to the Attic, they don't come back.

The Attic scares him, makes his heart thud like a bass drum and his chest constrict tightly in a way they wouldn't like, either. So Kazuya doesn't think about it, and when the visions come, he hides until they go away.

The only problem is, the visions are getting worse.

\-----

"Hello, Kazuya. How are you today?"

Kazuya likes Taguchi. He's always wearing a smile, and it fits him like it was tailor-made, eyes crinkling at the corners and practically disappearing into his cheeks in a way that never fails to make Kazuya's lips curl up a little, too.

Kazuya likes Taguchi's home, too, even though it's smaller than his own. Kazuya has an entire building to explore, the bedrooms and the cleaning rooms and the playing rooms, but Taguchi only has this one, small room at the top of a tall set of stairs that feel familiar and comforting under Kazuya's bare feet, the carpet caressing his toes and making him feel calmer, sleepier with every step he takes. The room itself is full of lots of strange, flickering objects, flat planes of glass with pictures and shapes dancing on them that are almost as exciting as Taguchi himself.

"Well, thank you," Kazuya smiles, "And you?" He crosses the room, feeling surer than he ever remembers as he pulls himself up and into the chair. It's cushioned and supple beneath him, and he sinks back into it with drooping eyelids, letting his head fall back against the rest with a sigh.

"I'm just dandy, thank you," Taguchi grins, and Kazuya feels himself smiling through the cloudy haze that has settled over him, "Are you ready for your treatment?"

Kazuya likes his treatments even more than he likes Taguchi. He usually drops off to sleep during them, but really, when the room is this comfortable and warm and he feels so at ease, he supposes that's normal. Taguchi never seems to mind that Kazuya doesn't talk to him during his treatments, anyway, and when he wakes up he feels refreshed, exhilarated, _alive_. Sometimes, parts of him ache, parts that had been fine before he went to sleep, but Kazuya supposes that's just how his treatments work. He trusts Taguchi almost as much as Koki, and knows Taguchi would never do anything to make Kazuya hurt unless he really had to, to make him feel better in the end.

"Yes, please," he murmurs drowsily, finally giving in to the heavy tug on his eyelids as Taguchi appears over him, warm smile still firmly in place.

\-----

"Where are we going?" Kousaku asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waits for their van to arrive, "Can I eat yet?"

Koki heaves an exaggerated sigh that fails to hide his smile, and shoves his hands in the pockets of overly baggy jeans, "You've got an appointment with SPIN."

"Again?" Kousaku exclaims, then, "He'll feed me, right?"

SPIN, known within certain circles as one Ueda Tatsuya, is someone he works with relatively often, although Kousaku himself doesn't really do much work of his own. Ueda is intensely private, hiding away even from his own family when the mood takes him - and the mood takes him often - to put pen to paper and release some of the most breathtaking song lyrics the country has ever seen. For all intents and purposes, he works alone, with no input from the outside world whatsoever - with one small difference. Like everyone, Ueda has deadlines, people with more money and power than him breathing down his neck for the next big thing for their group, their band, their idol, and one thing Ueda can _not_ do is work under pressure.

So, he boxes.

Kousaku has asked him more times than he cares to try and count why music, why boxing, why _him_ , but Ueda is just as close-lipped as his need for privacy suggests, and seems to have made an art of avoiding answering any question directly. Especially when Kousaku asks _why me_ and _why do you trust me_ and _why won't I go and tell the world who you are?_ When he asks those kinds of things, Ueda gets even quieter than usual, tells Kousaku he's being too noisy and lets him pick whatever he wants from the kitchen to keep him going until dinner.

Kousaku doesn't ask those kinds of things anymore. As much as he likes the food, the way Ueda seems uncomfortable, almost nervous around him makes him feel sick to the stomach, and he almost doesn't _want_ the food. Scandalous.

Today, though, Ueda is in an even more foul mood than usual, so Kousaku prepares himself for a real beating as he strips off and suits up, pushing his hands into the gloves Ueda throws him then flexing and clenching his fists a few times before he brings them up to his mouth.

Two hours, a black eye and a bloody lip later, Ueda's finally had enough, and Kousaku drops down onto the floor with a heavy thud. The other man glares at him, a lack of any kind of creative boost turning his mood foul, and Kousaku lolls to one side.

"You should just write about me," he grins, spitting his mouth guard out and pretending to be totally ignorant of Ueda's mouth working silently as his saliva leaves a trail on the mat, "I'm pretty cool, right?"

When the sun sets, Ueda finally stops ignoring him and, with a bright grin in place of the scowl that Kousaku had almost gotten used to, waves a piece of paper in his face. He isn't entirely sure where the inspiration for lyrics about a thousand screaming voices trapped behind a pair of lost, innocent eyes sprang from, but he's glad everything came together in the end, because he's _starving_.

Before he can make it into the kitchen, though, Koki leans around the door.

"Kousaku?"

"Yo!" Kousaku grins widely and leaps to his feet, "Ko~ki! You're just in time for dinner!"

"Sorry man, not yet, you're gonna be late for your treatment."

Any disappointment Kousaku had been feeling at the prospect of lost food is quickly replaced by a tingling excitement that makes his toes and his fingertips wriggle eagerly.

"Really? It's time for my treatment?"

\-----

The world is blurry around him as he blinks over and over, trying to clear his vision. The colours are soothing, all seeping into one big mass of shape that slowly separates as things begin to come back into focus.

"Hello, Kazuya," a familiar voice is saying, and he's smiling even before he sees that heartwarming grin above him.

"Did I fall asleep?" He murmurs, tongue thick and heavy in his mouth, and Taguchi nods gently as he helps him out of the chair.

"For a little while."

Kazuya ducks his head in thanks and stands, a little shakily. Luckily, Koki is there at his side to stop him falling, and with every step back down, his head clears a little more and things aren't quite as murky. By the time he's showered and dressed in comfortable track pants and a soft t-shirt, hair damp around his shoulders, Kazuya feels like himself again, brighter even, more awake than he'd been before his treatment, but his comfort doesn't last long.

It never does.

\-----

The nights are the worst. His dreams are filled with so many people he can't possibly pick any of them out, people he knows he recognises but can't place in locations he doesn't remember. He knows where to sit in the restaurant to get the best light, he knows where the ducks in the park like to splash, where this path leads to and where that road forks in different directions, but he's never been there before, never seen any of them in his life.

But throughout it all, there is always one face that stays the same.

And that face, that smiling, angelic face, the lingering touches and the flashes of tanned skin pressed against pale flesh makes his heart thud in his chest, a rapid _doki-doki, doki-doki_ of sound and movement pounding over and over and over beneath his breast and filling him with inexplicable, but undeniable, panic.

\-----

Odagiri Ryu doesn't follow orders well. He's also prone to using his fists in place of his mouth and his anger in place of his brain, so he's not normally considered to be a suitable candidate for tasks like this, tasks that require patience and cunning and skill.

But one thing Odagiri Ryu _does_ understand is a favour, especially amongst those he knows well, and when a friend of a friend is in trouble, the word 'no' just doesn't compute.

Which is what has brought him here.

Odagiri is edging his way along an empty corridor in what was, for all intents and purposes, a deserted office building on the outskirts of Tokyo - unless one cared to look closely enough behind the fire damage, the collapsed floors and charred walls and paint that peels away like broken, blistering skin. Because underneath all of that, a fierce gang by the name of ARASHI have built their domain.

It's also where they're holding unfortunate Osakan rookie, Uchi Hiroki. The Kansai RANGERS did not take well to their territory being invaded, and ARASHI did not like to discover there were things they couldn't do - Uchi, or 'Pink' as he was known within the RANGERS, had been unlucky enough to get caught in the crossfire and was now being held in Tokyo with a ransom of land, not money, on his head.

'Yellow' was doing everything in his power to get their new recruit back within their ranks, and Odagiri Ryu, so he says, is their last hope.

The floor creaks underfoot, a worn, wooden board protesting to the sudden addition of an entire body's worth of weight. Behind him, Yellow, followed by others who, like Yellow, had only given their names as 'Black' and 'Nasu', all step carefully over it, and four prayers for safety are sent skywards.

Odagiri is the only one who wishes for his own.

Despite their love of the Nippon Sunrise, Uchi - if Odagiri's extensive research and intelligence is correct - is being kept within the maze of ARASHI's basements, and the deeper Odagiri and the RANGERS venture, the more the voices in their ears telling them which way to turn next start to crackle and disappear.

By the time they find Uchi, their aid has ceased completely, leaving them in the figurative, and literal dark. Odagiri feels his way along the wall inch by inch, and soon finds his mind filling in the gaps, replacing the darkness with beams of light and images that can't possibly be right.

Karma, he thinks as he blinks firmly and shakes his head, is a fickle bitch.

The jostle only serves to make his head start to throb in a firm, rhythmic pounding that brings the world spinning around him like a fairground ride. It's a strange thought to have, because he's never been to a fairground, but somehow he can see himself sitting atop something that goes round and round, surrounded by bright, electrifying colours and flashing lights that just make it worse.

As it is, he stumbles, and Yellow walks into him.

"Fuck, what are you doing? Get out of the way!"

Odagiri bites his tongue against arguing as the short-tempered RANGER pushes past him to start working on the lock, but only because of the blinding pain in his head. He ends up letting go of the wall to clutch at his forehead, gritting his teeth in an attempt to keep quiet but to no avail. He doesn't even feel the floor as he goes down, just his head, his head, and...

_"You have no idea what kind of people are tied up in this place, Kamenashi. The kind of power we have. We can do things you'd never even dream of."_

_Kamenashi nods, and Odagiri feels his neck shift with the motion. Koichi, the man's called Koichi; he doesn't know_ how _he knows, he just does. Talking to him, but he's gotten his name wrong because he's not... he's not..._

_"Stop! Please, stop! Jin!"_

_There it is, that face. His blood runs cold, Odagiri's, Kamenashi's, and while Kamenashi wants to run, Odagiri wants to fight, but neither of them are in control now. He is._

Mind-numbing pain explodes in his leg, and there are lights now, people yelling and running towards them. Odagiri's vision swims with colour, peeks of scenes fading in and out that he can feel Kamenashi clawing at, trying desperately to hang on to, but it _hurts_ , it hurts more than any punch Odagiri's ever taken, and Kamenashi is brutally shoved out, pushed down and locked away with the pain.

Black and Nasu scoop him up, yanking on an arm each and dragging him along with them, his injured leg screaming every time he tries to stand on it.

Up, up, up they go, the gunshots following them close behind. Through cloudy vision he can see Yellow and another man, taller, skinny, racing ahead and fumbling with the locks, clearing the way for them. Nasu releases him as they catch up, lets the other man - Uchi, must be Uchi - hoist Odagiri's other arm over his shoulder so that he can fire back clumsily on the men chasing them, his dominant arm bleeding heavily and cradled protectively across his chest. There's a cry, and someone goes stumbling backwards down the stairwell, expanding their gap a little as the rest of them scramble to catch him and get past.

_"We can make it all go away, Kamenashi. How does that sound?"_

Someone shouts, and had he not been clenching his eyes shut and biting his tongue to distract from the way his skull felt like it was trying to rip itself in two, Odagiri would have realised that this time, it was his own.

_"We can make it so you'll barely feel a thing."_

They're shooting again, the noise doing nothing to help the pounding in his skull, and Odagiri feels himself drifting towards unconsciousness, too much pain for his mind to handle.

_"Just do it. Make me better."_

It's easier to just give in and let the blackness swallow him up.

All he needs is a treatment, a treatment will fix it.

\-----

The first thing Kazuya feels is the warmth. Then there's the softness beneath him, the silence around him, the comfort all but swallowing him up. It's a struggle to open his eyes, but he does, he always does whether he wants to or not, like his eyelids are working without his consent.

"Did I fall asleep?" He murmurs, struggling to focus on the unfamiliar surroundings. There's no flashing pictures, no light above him, even the ceiling is a different colour.

"For a little while."

The voice is different, too, but the words fill him with a sense of ease and relaxation all the same, and his vision clears. The man's face is unfamiliar, but Kazuya doesn't have the energy to feel scared, especially when he's got such a nice smile.

"I'm Nakamaru, Kazuya. I'm a doctor."

A doctor. That means he must be sick.

"Am I sick, sensei?"

"No, you're not sick," Nakamaru-sensei tells him, "You must stay still, though, okay?"

Kazuya nods obediently.

"Before you fell asleep, you injured your leg. I need you to keep it still so that it can get better. Can you do that for me, Kazuya?"

He nods again, trusting without question that Nakamaru-sensei will make him better. He's a doctor, after all, that's what doctors do.

Kazuya watches Nakamaru-sensei potter around for a while, drawing things on a piece of paper and pushing a lot of buttons that make things move on a big grey box with a window on the front. Maybe it's a game. Kazuya wonders if he could play a game, too.

After a while, his leg starts to ache, but Kazuya ignores it and tries to be brave. Something must show on his face though, because Nakamaru-sensei stands with a smile and puts something into a long tube attached to a clear bag of water. There's another tube coming from the bag that, when Kazuya follows it with his eyes, disappears beneath a small white patch on his arm, and almost as soon as he notices it, the pain starts to fade.

He feels groggy now, too, so when Nakamaru-sensei tells him he can go to sleep if he wants, Kazuya does.

\-----

_Everything is bright, so bright, sun streaming in through the huge wall-to-wall windows that line the front of the apartment. One of them slides open easily beneath his palms and he steps out onto the balcony, the tiles cool beneath his feet despite the heat beating down on his face. He's careful not to lean on any of the plants filling the boxes that line the balcony railings as he rests his elbows on the edge, hands curling around his chin as he gazes out across horizon. Despite all the years he's lived here, he's never been able to get over how stunning a blue the ocean is, glistening in the sunlight like it's made of liquid sapphire. Everything here seems more vibrant in colour than he's ever seen before, and every day it feels like he appreciates its beauty even more._

_"Ka~me."_

_Kame turns with a smile._

_"You're home early."_

_Jin slides his arms around Kame's waist and presses his lips to his shoulder before he leans his chin against it, "Missed you."_

_Kame laughs, and wonders why on earth he resisted for so long, "Idiot."_

_As the sun starts to fade, so does the scene, blurring around the edges and shifting, changing until Kame's wrists are being pressed down on either side of his head and there are teeth on his collar. He cries out and pushes against the hands restraining him, but they're stronger than he is, holding him down against the mattress as the other man takes what he wants too roughly for Kame's taste. He'd complain more, try harder to make him stop, but he knows Jin will only smile down at him and make it hurt more if he does._

_"I'm sorry," Jin's saying, and now they're curled up together, Jin's body pressed tightly against his back while he caresses Kame's stomach softly, careful to avoid any bruises he'd left behind, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to, I don't..."_

_"I know," Kame replies, turning in Jin's arms to pillow Jin's head against his chest and gritting his teeth against the sharp stings and burning he feels all over, "I know you don't, it's okay."_

_"Do you love me, Kame?" Jin asks, turning pleading eyes on him, and every cell in Kame's body says the same thing._

_"Yes."_

_Yes, yes, yes, he tells himself over and over as Jin's temper flares out of control again and he's sent skidding across the floor, narrowly avoiding cracking his head on the table leg. Jin advances on him as he scrambles to get to his feet, a swift blow to the back of his knees keeping him down._

_"Who is it?!" He screams, "Who is she!?"_

_"There's no-one!" Kame promises, voice cracking, then coughs harshly as Jin's boot finds his ribs, "There's no-one, I swear!"_

_"You're such a liar!" Kame can practically feel Jin's anger thrumming in the air, doesn't resist when the other man forces him flat onto his back and climbs over him, "Telling me you love me, that I'm all you need, then going out to see your little bitch, is that it?! Do you have a good laugh about me, about how_ stupid _I am?!"_

_Kame flinches away from the spray of saliva, "No! Of course not! Please, Jin-" The back of the other man's hand catches him across the cheek, and he tastes blood._

_"Don't you fucking_ please, Jin _me, Kamenashi! I_ trusted _you, I gave you_ everything _, and this is how you repay me?! Do you know what happens to ungrateful cheaters like you?" Jin takes both of Kame's wrists into one hand and reaches down-_

"Kazuya? Kazuya, what is it?!"

The face above him, ugly with revulsion and hate begins to dissolve, the rage-filled eyes giving way to a softer, worried gaze until Jin is Nakamaru-sensei and Kazuya's eyelids are fluttering open.

"Jin, he..."

"Jin?" Nakamaru-sensei's voice sounds different, his words wobbling a little, but Kazuya doesn't understand why, "Why... Who is Jin, Kazuya?"

"He's... he's..." Kazuya tries to remember, squeezes his eyes shut to try and bring back the dream, tries to picture the face that had filled him with such terror mere moments ago, but the more he tries, the harder it becomes, sinking further towards the back of his mind with every stretch, "I think... he hurt me?"

"I see," He sees Nakamaru swallow, approaching him with a small tube with a pointed tip in his hand, "Kazuya, I think... I think you should get some more rest, okay?"

"Okay," Kazuya agrees, and doesn't fight it when his eyes begin to droop closed.

\-----

"His time's nearly up, but if they find out he's not clean, they're not gonna care, they won't ask questions. They'll just... just..." Koki is saying, and Kazuya pries his eyes open, a look that makes his heart ache flashing across Koki's face, "They'll just put him in the Attic."

"He needs to face this," Taguchi replies, and the absence of his smile makes Kazuya want to paint one back on, "I don't understand how, or why, but it's interfering with his wipe, corrupting it. He shouldn't be remembering things! My software is perfect!"

"How exactly is he supposed to face it? What do you want him to do, go there and see Akanishi himself?" Koki's anger is something Kazuya recognises, and he wants to reach out to him and tell him that it's okay, he doesn't need to be mad, but his voice isn't coming out and he feels so, so heavy...

"Why not? I could imprint him as himself! We keep him here until his leg has healed, and by then his contract will be up! Then-"

"We have no idea what could happen!" Koki interrupts, with Nakamaru talking under him.

"He doesn't have any idea..."

All the shouting is making Kazuya's head hurt.

"I don't want to go to the Attic," he says quietly, finally finding his voice.

All three heads whip around, and Koki elbows Nakamaru sharply, causing the other man to wince in pain, "You said he was out cold!"

"I'm sorry!" The doctor hisses back, "He-he's different, I can't help it!"

Kazuya doesn't like Koki's glare, but it fades as soon as the other man remembers him watching.

"Don't worry, Kaz," he says softly while he strokes his fingers across Kazuya's scalp, and Kazuya leans into the touch like a kitten, "We don't let that happen."

The icy fear that had been threatening to creep up into his chest is dispersed almost as quickly as it had come, fading to a gentle sort of contentment.

If Koki says so, then there's nothing for him to worry about.

\-----

The view is as beautiful as Kame remembers, but it's never been coloured red before, seen through eyes so full of fury that there is no space left for appreciation.

"You came back..." Jin's voice is equal parts awe and worry, like he isn't sure if he should wrap his arms around Kame's tiny frame or bolt for the door.

Kame's glad he had the forethought to lock it.

"You didn't think I would?" He seethes, "After everything, you thought I'd just let you get away with it?"

"Get away with what?" Worry is definitely winning out now, as Jin starts to back slowly in the other direction. Kame follows, four long strides all it takes to catch Jin up and trap him against the wall.

"With all the things you did to me! Everything, Jin, the hell you put me through!"

"I-I'm sorry, I never wanted-"

"Don't try and _apologise_ , it's too late for that! Did you think I wouldn't remember, is that it? That you'd fucked me up good enough that I'd forget everything you did?" Kame's hands fist in Jin's shirt and the other man presses himself back further, as if he wants to be swallowed up.

"No, no, never, I didn't..." Jin's eyes are wide and filled with panic as he shakes his head rapidly back and forth, holding up his hands with his palms outwards to show he's not going to fight back, "I don't understand, Kame, I'm sorry, I'm-"

Kame uses his grip to shove Jin hard enough that his head hits the plaster, the satisfying crack echoing through the room.

"I said _no_ fucking apologies, didn't I? Or are you deaf now, too?"

Jin shakes his head even more vehemently, eyes fluttering a little with the force of it after the blow.

"You nearly _killed_ me, Jin! Or have you forgotten already?"

_Jin takes both of Kame's wrists into one hand and reaches down into his boot, something in his grip flashing silver._

"What?" Jin's voice is little more than a breath, his face the picture of horror that Kame is too vengeful to see, "I never wanted to-"

"Shut _up_!" Kame yells, throat raw with emotion, "Did it feel good?! Taking that thing to my neck? Did you like watching me bleed for you?!"

_The blade presses against his skin and Kame gasps, too frightened to move an inch._

_"Jin, please, I didn't-"_

_"Shut up! Just stop fucking_ talking _already."_

The images start to diminish, the Jin from then and the Jin from now blurring into one, and Kame feels the blade, a heavy, familiar weight in his hand as he brings it to Jin's throat. The other man is trying to pull back with nowhere to go, eyes shining with beautiful tears that Kame wants to see trailing down his cheeks.

"Do you know what happens to people like you, Jin?"

_Jin presses the blade in harder, and Kame feels it beginning to slice through his skin, "Do you?"_

_He whimpers softly, the first tear falling as he whispers, "What?"_

_Jin smiles._

"They get what's coming to them.

 _As the first drop of blood pools on the blade, Kame starts to struggle against Jin's grip, no longer bothered with staying still and more focused on the desire to_ live _. But Jin is stronger than him, deceptively muscled from all the time he spends on his surfboard._

Part of Kame's mind picks up on something he's forgotten, something not quite right about Jin, who wasn't even a very strong swimmer, being an avid surfer, but the other man's struggling hard enough now to be a distraction from it. He's grasping at Kame's arms and trying to pry them away from his throat, choking on noises that sound like they should be coming from a panicked animal before they can fall from his lips.

_Kame's no match for Jin, not when he gets like this, fueled by nothing but his anger. The more Kame struggles, the harder Jin presses, cutting deeper and gripping harder. Kame feels the bones in his wrists shift and creak under the onslaught as Jin's palms push down on them, his hands smaller than Kame's but with a strength that never failed to surprise him-_

No, no that's not right at all. Kame can feel Jin's wrists, his hands, and one thing they're not is small. Jin's flesh is giving out beneath Kame's blade, though, the blood trickling down the metal and the crude, wooden handle, and Jin's starting to give up the fight. His grip is weakening as the blood starts to flow, sounds of protest gradually dying, and Kame feels his eyes being drawn to the smooth skin of Jin's neck as he watches his revenge play out.

Except Jin's skin isn't all that smooth, after all.

Just above the place where Kame's driving the knife into him, there's another mark that's almost parallel to his blade, a long, slightly ragged line of skin that will never fully heal.

Behind Kame's eyes, everything is changing.

_Hands, his own, one holding Jin down while the other one clamps over his mouth and muffles his cries - pain or pleasure, it doesn't matter. Fistfuls of hair, tugging hard enough that strands come loose in his grip. Nails that scratch and draw blood, palms that beat and slap, bruises and welts marring Jin's tan that gets paler by the day._

_Jin, out on the beach, talking with a pretty blonde during the day but coming home to Kame at night, whispering his affection whenever Kame realises what he's done and can't bear the remorse. Telling him it's okay, that they love each other and that's all that matters. That he knows Kame doesn't mean it._

_And finally, his thighs either side of Jin's waist as he reaches down for the blade he's taken to keeping in his boot. His fingers curling around the handle and Jin's huge, terrified eyes staring up at him._

The same eyes that are looking down at him right now. Eyes that are beginning to lose their spark as his life continues to flow over Kame's hands and down his arms. Eyes that have already turned glassy by the time Kame drops the blade like it burns and falls back, scrambling away from Jin's body that falls like deadweight at his feet, in a pool of scarlet.

\-----

He's curled up against the far wall when Koki finds him, clutching his knees and staring unseeingly at what he'd done.

He doesn't hear anything Koki says, none of the horrified exclamations or barked orders into his cellphone, and when Koki crouches down next to him and touches his arm gently, Kame only looks at him with watery eyes filled with despair for a moment before he looks back at Jin again.

"I didn't..." He whispers, voice shaking, "I never meant to hurt him..."

"I know," Koki says softly, taking Kame's arm and guiding him to his feet, "Come on, we have to get out of here."

"I can't... Jin..." Kame's resistance is weak at best, and Koki wraps a firm arm around Kame's shoulders, effectively pinning his arms to his sides.

"Come on, man, we have to go. Now."

Kame doesn't try and fight any more as Koki leads him outside and into the waiting van, leaving the whole, terrible scene far behind them.

\-----

At night, his dreams are filled with everything he's lost, everything he's done; as himself, and as everyone else. People he's hurt, people he's cheated, people he's murdered, all for nothing. The people he's helped just make him feel sick, their smiles and gratitude turning his stomach until he wakes up in a cold sweat and empties it.

He stops eating, stops sleeping, and that only makes everything worse.

Their faces hover before his eyes all the time, wherever he goes; never screaming or shouting, just _being_ , and no matter how hard he prays for forgiveness for what he's done, they never leave.

And it's always Jin at the forefront. Always smiling, eyes sparkling as brightly as they had the first day they'd met and Jin had tripped over Kame's legs, a face filled with adoration that slowly turns to terror the more Kame looks at it, lifeless eyes staring into Kame's own and choking on his devotion as the blood spills from between his lips.

The blood, there's always so much blood, on his hands, soaking through his clothes and congealing in his hair like a macabre shower. Kame scrubs and scrubs and scrubs, but try as he might he can't see the raw, angry redness of his skin through the gore covering it.

Throngs of people scatter as he pushes his way through them, all trying not to stare at his ragged shirt, his tangled hair, his skin covered in open wounds and sores. No-one stops him or tries to follow him as he navigates the streets, unseeing of anything around him as his feet carry him to the place he'd never wanted to return to.

Now, he knows, it's his only salvation.

\-----

_"I love you," Jin had whispered all those years ago, with all but his last breath, and Kame had wrenched the knife away, scooping Jin's unconscious form into his arms as he realised what he'd let himself do. After he'd left Jin at the hospital, he'd run away, convinced that it was too late and he'd left his lover there to die. He'd been desperate to hide himself away from the world so that he couldn't lose control again, couldn't inflict any more pain on anyone else._

_That was when Koki found him, and offered him a way to forget._

_"You'll be ours for five years, alive but with no memory of what you've done. We can make it all go away, Kamenashi. How does that sound? We can make it so you'll barely feel a thing."_

_Kame hadn't been able to say no._

_"Are you sure you want to do this, Kamenashi?" Koichi had warned him, "You have no idea what kind of people are tied up in this place, the kind of power we have. We can do things you'd never even dream of."_

_Kame hadn't cared. He'd needed to escape, to forget, to be someone else. Anything, he'd have done anything to make it stop hurting._

_"Just do it. Make me better."_

_Anything was exactly what he ended up doing, too, anything and everything people with enough power and money wanted him to do._

And now, despite everything he knows about them, about what they'd make him do, he's back, using bloody hands to punch in the elevator code that he shouldn't know and being followed by every person he's ever wronged as he goes down, down, down to the place he shouldn't remember.

The stairs to Taguchi's office are as familiar as ever, the carpet soft under his boots, and Kame can still feel that lingering sense of comfort trying, trying to envelop him in its warmth but being forced out by every one of them, all those invisible hands that want to pull him back down and toss him to the wolves for everything he's done to them.

"I'll stay," Kame gasps as he reaches the top, knees giving out after days of insomnia and malnutrition. He clutches at the doorframe and then at handfuls of Taguchi's shirt when the other man steps close enough, voice grating painfully in his throat as he begs, "I'll stay. Please, just, please...

"Make it stop."

\-----

As he lies back in the chair, he prays over and over for this to be the end, that this treatment will be The One and it'll all stop - the headaches, the memories, all of it. But somewhere, deep in his heart, Kamenashi knows.

This is only the beginning.


End file.
